


Red vs Mew

by Blueberryshortcake



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Absent Church, Cat AU, Cat!Caboose, Cat!Tucker, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Lonely!Wash, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Wash has PTSD, bad language, flashbacks of canon typical violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-14 01:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11772177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberryshortcake/pseuds/Blueberryshortcake
Summary: In which Wash, still haunted by the war, adopts/steals his neighbour's cats.In this chapter: Caboose is confused about where he lives. Tucker ISN'T pregnant but acts like it. Wash's memories keep surfacing.





	1. In Which Wash Breaks and Enters

Wash didn’t get to know his neighbours.

 

The apartment was the sort of place that was constantly rumoured to be on the verge of sold and torn down. It was in bad shape, the superintendent was never actually around.

 

After his last tour of duty things…

 

He didn’t want to get to know his neighbours.

 

With two exceptions.

 

“Hello Caboose.”  
  
“Mraw!” The huge Maine Coon perked up at the sight of him. He bounced towards him and flopped down onto his shoe purring uncontrollably. Wash bent down and carefully scratched his ears. Caboose had a tendency to bite. Not out of aggression, but the love bites were sometimes harder than intended not realizing his own strength.  After a month of knowing him Wash had figured out where and how to touch to avoid Caboose’s more painful ...tokens of affection.

 

He was fairly sure the place didn’t allow cats, but that didn’t stop Church from keeping them. His neighbour to the left. It took about three sentences to realize Church was an asshole to avoid. That impression was doubled by the screaming matches he and his… girlfriend? Fiancée?... hired assassin? Had. Or maybe that was just how they showed affection...

 

His cats were nice though.

 

A panicked yowl came from behind the trash cans. A slim tabby bolted.

  
Caboose was up in a moment managing to get directly in the Tabby’s path tripping him up.

 

“Striking out again Tucker?” Wash asked in amusement. The Tabby gave him a scathing look, but wasn’t above hiding behind him while what he presumed was an angry female cat ran off in a different direction. Church apparently didn’t have his cats neutered either which tended to get Tucker into tons of trouble.

 

Wash bent down and let Tucker sniff his hand. He wasn’t much impressed. Caboose had been easier to win over than Tucker.

 

In the end, it didn’t matter though. As soon as Caboose heard Church’s car he’d freak out in happiness. Church was somehow that cat’s best friend. Even Tucker perked up and pranced down the hall after the massive cat to go greet his owner leaving Wash alone.

 

 

Alone.

 

He quickly pulled out his keys and entered the building before he ran into his neighbour who was already shrill from Caboose almost tripping him on the stairs.

 

-

 

The meowing hadn’t stopped in the last two days. The sound of scratching sometimes accompanying it. Church didn’t usually lock the cats up. For the most part he allowed them to wander free throughout the apartment complex and surrounding area (Which really what if Caboose found his way to the street? That cat could barely cross the hallway without incident…).

 

It wasn’t his business… it _really_ wasn’t.

 

He found himself standing in front of 323 staring at the door.

 

He was about to walk away. He didn’t want to…

 

He didn’t want to get to know his neighbours. Especially not this particular neighbour.  

 

But then Caboose gave out a pathetic cry like his heart was breaking and Wash found himself knocking.

 

“Hello?” He asked with raised voice after a few seconds.

 

Now Tucker had joined in on the crying… it had been two days.

 

Wash definitely didn’t think about York as he pulled out the bobby pins he just happened to keep in his wallet (at all times) and fiddled with the lock.

 

He froze hearing footsteps thumping in the stairwell, but they kept going up on their way to the fourth. He let himself breathe and continued on. It took a few minutes. This wasn’t his usual area of expertise, but York’s smiling voice echoed in his ear about ‘being gentle’ and ‘give the lock what it wants.’ It seemed dumb, but it was grounding. He heard the click. Cheap locks.

 

 Hesitating only briefly he opened the door.

  
  
“MREOW!!” Caboose was somehow in his arms by the time he stepped inside. Tucker jumped straight up in surprise when he saw that it wasn’t Church, but he didn’t run.

 

“Ow--! Caboose!” Wash yelped as the huge cat bit him _hard_  on the shoulder as if he needed to latch on. He backed up and tripped on Tucker falling to the floor.

 

The cats were soon on top of him, meowing.

 

He shut his eyes for a moment and saw North so he quickly opened them.

 

“You guys are hungry huh?” He asked, carefully petting both of them.

 

Caboose rolled onto his face accidentally smothering him.

 

Wash pulled himself up lugging Caboose up with him. He really was a massive cat.

 

“Mrewor!”

 

“Alright, alright. Why don’t you guys come over with me?”

 

Just until Church gets back from wherever the fuck he is, Wash told himself.

 

He expected he would need two or three trips to get the cats and any items he might find for them, but carrying Caboose, Tucker followed right along. He seemed suspicious but willing.

 

-

 

He put the cats in his apartment and went back to scout out for food. He forced himself to keep his eyes to the ground. He was here for the cats. Nothing more. He wasn’t _snooping_.

 

Except the place was a mess. Stuff was thrown around everywhere. There was a broken chair. And Wash wasn’t sure if this was a scene of a crime or the aftermath of Church and “Tex’s” last argument... or love making.

 

He found two small bowls and a large one that still had a bit of water left. There was a cupboard open with a scratched up basically empty bag of catfood. They must have gotten into it when they had run out. There wasn’t a litter box, they were probably used to going outside, but there WAS the telling smell of cats who didn’t have access to the outside. He scooped the bowls up. Found a cat sized tank made of cardboard that seemed too small for Caboose but might be Tucker’s and a plush sword with a smiling face that smelled like catnip. He carried it all back to his place.

 

“Hey!” He protested. Caboose was scratching at his couch with his gigantic paws. He purred when he saw Wash. Tucker wasn’t so pleased. His tail moved languidly back and forth.

 

“Okay okay.” Wash said to himself as much as the two cats. He placed everything down.

 

Caboose sprung away from the chair, excited once more at seeing the… tank.

 

“It’s too small. It’s not physically—”

 

But Caboose was already on top of it trying to squeeze himself in. Wash noticed the cardboard was dented and pushed down. Reinforced with tape. Eventually, the determined cat managed to get the upper half of his body in, the rest of him sticking out, leg splayed. He contently purred apparently comfortable.

 

Wash felt a smile quirk on his lips.

 

Tucker meanwhile had gotten the sword and was rubbing his head against it. Well obviously these were the favourite toys, at least Wash had got something right. He went to his peeling kitchen counter and filled the water bowl. He didn’t know how recently they had eaten the bag of cat food so he dug through the fridge finding some sliced chicken he had been saving for lunch. He tore it up putting equal portions in each bowl.

Tucker noticed first and made a delighted sound sprinting over and meowing demandingly until Wash put the bowls down. Caboose gave a startled meow realizing he was missing something. He wiggled and fell back the tank still stuck on his head trying to make his way to the food. Wash took pity and helped the huge cat free himself. He was rewarded with a hard bite on his finger.

 

“Gah—that’s—you really need to be more gentle, buddy.”

 

Caboose ignored him in favour of dunking his head in the water bowl and then gobbled down his chicken.

 

Wash let himself fall down on his couch. He had just broken in and entered his neighbour’s apartment… and stolen his cats.

 

The others would have never let him live it down.

 

He bit the inside of his cheek hard to push the thought out of his mind. Supplies. Right. First order of business.

 

He glanced at his window. He knew the cats accessed the rest of the complex through the fire escape, but… what if they tried looking for Church and got lost?

 

He looked over at them. They seemed content, at least for now. Caboose was back with his tank, this time curled around it like it was his best friend snuggling it. Tucker was checking out their new surroundings, his tail straight up as he trotted around.

 

Right.

 

He grabbed his wallet and headed out.

 

* * *

**Bonus Cat POV**

* * *

 

“Chuuuuuuuuurch.”

“Shut up dude.”

“Chuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurch.”

“Dude. Shut. Up.”

“I hear him I think I hear him!”

Tucker poked his head up. He heard scratching at the door too. He curiously came up beside Caboose. Caboose stared at the doorknob in hope.

“If it was Church he would be in here by now,” Tucker said slowly.

“CHURCH! CHURCH! DON’T WORRY I WILL HELP YOU!” Caboose howled scratching hard at the already wrecked door.

“CHURCH!!!!!!”

“Wha--!! That’ s not Church—Caboose!” Tucker watched as the Maine Coon flung himself into the air landing in the blond human’s arms.

“Oh! It’s Mr. Wash! I WILL SAY HELLO!” Annnd promptly bit him.


	2. A Freakishly Large Amount of Cat Paraphernalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash bumps into his old Teammate.

He had gone a bit overboard.

 

He had always liked cats, but had never had one himself. When he was a kid they moved around too much and as soon as he was eighteen he had joined up. He had only meant to get a small bag of food and a couple litter boxes thinking that after a few days Church would show up again and reclaim the cats with little to no explanation of why he left them in the first place.

 

But then Wash noticed there were scratching posts and cat towers on sale. Caboose had already done a lot of damage to his couch…and then he got to thinking that maybe it would be a good idea to get them collars since really it would be impossible to keep them inside the apartment permanently. He ended up with blue for Caboose and aqua for Tucker having the name tags made.

 

The rest had been a blur. Suddenly he had three bags full of toys, food (both wet and dry), litter and a large fuzzy blue cat tower.

 

He sat in the car for a moment breathing. Suddenly overwhelmed. He was getting too attached too quickly. Church would come back and take them. That’s what will happen. That’s what should happen. He’d go back to his empty apartment and—

 

He needed to return this stuff. He was—

 

He gave a shriek at the knock on his window. He breathed in deeply and slowly turned his head.

 

“Are you having an existential crisis in the parking lot of a fucking Petsmart?”

 

 _South_.

 

Without thinking he put his car into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot at breakneck speed.

 

He probably would have been able to stop and avoid the guy that had just run the red light if he hadn’t been so shaken.

 

“CAAAAAAAAR!!!”

 

-

 

“You are such a god damn drama queen.”

 

One tow and an awkward meeting later Wash was sitting in a crappy diner buying South dinner because she was going to drive him and his “Freakishly large amount of cat paraphernalia,” (Her words) home.

 

“I…had to get home,” Wash mumbled drinking more coffee. The car was wrecked, which was the last thing he needed, and although the accident wasn’t technically his fault he _could_ have avoided all of this if he hadn’t been driving while freaked out. That was the medical term, wasn’t it?

 

“Yeah, sure. That was the reaction I witnessed alright,” South rolled her eyes. She didn’t point out that he probably should have gone to the hospital, which he was glad for. Either because she didn’t care, she knew him too well, or she knew the kind of benefits he had. The Project didn’t take care of them. Not at all.

 

 

“I should probably be insulted,” She added digging into her French fries.

 

“Are you?”

 

“Nah. You were basically section 8. Probably still are.”

 

“Wow. Thanks.”

 

South shrugged again. “Call it like I see it. So. Cats?”

 

“Uh… yeah. I’m … watching them.”

 

“With that amount of shit? Did you steal them?”

 

“I did not!” He said his voice rising in pitch. South smirked at him. They weren’t good at small talk, but South was handy with an insult and tease, so maybe he could get out of this relatively unscathed.

  
“I’m just fucking with you,” She rolled her eyes once more.

 

They fell into silence.

 

“So… how’s…” He tried to say, but let himself trail off. He didn’t want to do this. “You know, I can just bus—”

 

“All your cat shit is in my car. We don’t have to talk. There’s not a lot to say, right? How much do you even remember anyway? Last time I saw you—”

 

_Everything._

 

“Enough.”

 

He did have trouble. He couldn’t remember if it was her or North that had got the treatment. If Flordia had got up from the axe or if he had stayed down. He remembered all the little details. The blood. The screams. The hate. It was the normal things he had trouble with. For the life of him he couldn’t remember South’s real name right now, but he remembered in great detail her—

 

“You shot me in the back!”

 

She looked at him incredulously, “You fucking forgot about that? Jesus Christ Wash.”

 

His hand shook trying his best not to let himself fall into the memory.

 

“Fuck,” South mouthed quietly. Her hackles lowered and she grabbed his hand.

 

They stayed like that until the shaking stopped.

 

“You’re not going to freak out?” She asked after a few seconds of his calm in and out breathing. He had counted to ten about fifty times in his head by this point. She had pulled her hand away.

 

“You shot me,” Wash said quietly.

 

“Not everyone got out as legally as you did. You were in my way. Besides, you had orders to shoot me. They told me you wouldn’t, but I wasn’t about to take my fucking chances. On you or them.” At least she was honest… and her betrayal tangible and physical…

 

He nodded. He remembered a string of times South and Connie teased him good naturedly. South sneaking cake in for Connie’s Birthday and Wash had got the candles.

 

_“One beer, otherwise the Councillor will figure it out during eval tomorrow.”_

_“You’re such a fucking suck up Washington.”_

_“This is amazing guys.”_

“Earth to Washington.”

 

“Are you done?” He asked bluntly. “I need to get home to the cats.”

 

They had grown apart when he had gone up the leaderboard… or was it when Connie had pulled away? He started spending more time with York and North. South was just so angry all the time and Connie was distant and then gone.

 

“Let’s go,” South shrugged coolly.

 

Other than directions they drove in silence. Wash did his very best not to ask who from the program was still alive and who was dead.

 

-

 

South didn’t offer to haul up all the cat items, but he hadn’t asked. He took all the bags up first and left the cat tower for a second trip.

 

“MREEWR!!!”

 

“Caboose!”

 

Wash had to drop all the bags in order to catch the happy feline. He groaned as the solid cat hit his banged up body. Caboose snuggled in his arms, but then paused and looked up at him. He didn’t know a cat could look disappointed…

 

He must miss Church.

 

Wash petted the cat and gently placed him down. Tucker was already digging through the bags.

 

“Hey, get out of the catnip!” Wash scolded gently. He scooped up the bags again and dumped them in his room so they wouldn’t get into them while he went back for the cat tower. “I’ll be right back.”

 

The second time he was ready for Caboose’s flying leap, but in catching him had neglected to protect himself from the inevitable bite.

 

“Ah—” He held the cat, tears springing into his eyes. “Let go, let go.”

 

Caboose did and once again seemed disappointed.

 

“I know I’m not him,” Wash grumbled. “But I got you guys some things.”

 

Tucker sat in front of the doorway to his bedroom tail twitching in curiosity.

 

Wash slowly smiled, “You want the nip huh?”

 

He opened the door and instantly Tucker had his head in the bag. Wash scooped him up and put him down to the side. “You’re going to suffocate yourself. Come on now.” He dug in the bag and pulled out the little alien catnip toy and threw it back into the living room.

  
Tucker sprang into the air and pounced on the alien biting into it. Smelling the catnip he tugged it to his chest and started kicking it ferociously with his legs.

 

Caboose was climbing the blue tower dragging his claws along the upholstery.

 

Judging by the state of the left side of his couch, in ribbons and damaged beyond repair, the tower had been a good idea.

 

He put the food and litter away setting up a litter box in a corner and another in the bathroom.

 

He laughed as Tucker climbed up the tower, alien in mouth and tried to shove Caboose off the top of their base.

 

“That’s for both of you to share, Tucker.”

 

Tucker pushed all his weight against Caboose, but only managed to have the heavier cat flop over on him.

 

Thoughts about South and the program faded as he watched their antics.

 

* * *

 

Bonus Cat POV

* * *

 

 

"Dude...this is my spot. Get off."

 

"I was here first!"

 

"You have Sheila! Why don't you go bug her?" Tucker pushed hard against Caboose's bulk. Caboose flopped over on him.

 

"You son of a bitch get off of me!!"

 

"It's time for a nap Tucker."


	3. Failure in Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caboose is confused about where he lives. Tucker ISN'T pregnant but acts like it. Wash's memories keep surfacing.

The cats weren’t happy.

 

Their needs were met, they had stuff to do, they could go in and out of the apartment when they wanted, but inevitably Caboose would forget the window and end up crying on the wrong level of the fire escape wondering why his normal window wasn’t open. Tucker was more subtle, he was less inclined to let Wash hold or pet him and only came to him if he was holding a brush. Tucker loved being groomed, but otherwise wouldn’t let himself be touched much.

 

It shouldn’t hurt. They were Church’s cats, they missed him. They didn’t understand the concept of abandonment or death or—

 

Should he be the one to report a missing person?

 

It had been two weeks now. It hadn’t been the first time Church had been gone for a stretch, but usually Tex had come to feed the cats when that happened. Not that he was watching… you just… notice things when you’re home a lot… and like cats.

 

“Mrewooooooow,” Caboose cried forlornly.

 

“I know buddy,” Wash hauled Caboose into his arms and made his way back down to his apartment. “Right down here, remember?” He gently put Caboose through the window and went back in himself.

 

He jumped in surprise, Tucker had been lying in wait and swatted at his ankles, then sped off.

 

“Tucker!” He huffed. “—Again?” He went to the kitchen nook and looked down at the empty food bowl.  He had just filled it! At first he had thought it was Caboose. He was a big cat with… not the best impulse control, but Caboose had been out all day. Tucker was slim though. How could he be eating whole bowls of food?

 

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you were pregnant,” Wash muttered. He had _checked_ though.

 

 _Twice_.

 

He scratched the back of his head and sighed.  Caboose was on the top of the tower, half leaning off it. Tucker was sharpening his claws, pissed off about something.

 

There were some downsides to keeping his window open for the cats. First, someone might break in, although he wasn’t particularly worried about that. The most valuable stuff that wasn’t at all times on Wash’s person was the cat stuff. Next was the worry that came from letting the cats wander around, but Caboose almost broke the window trying to jump through it when he had tried keeping it closed. There was also more bugs around, and there was a stray in the back alley that was yowling all night. He had tried figuring out if it belonged to anyone, but was coming up with nothing. He couldn’t even catch sight of him, he kept skittering away whenever he approached.  Also he hadn’t realized it before, but his neighbour on the ground floor had a running frustrated monologue in Spanish. 

 

“¡No! ¡Espantar! ¡Espantar! ¡No te quiero aquí!”

 

Wash crouched down and attempted to pet Tucker. Tucker swatted in annoyance. 

 

“Okay, okay. I don’t know what you’re problem is,” He groused although he knew exactly what the problem was. Maybe if he grew a beard like Church…

 

No. No, that would be stupid…

 

He just had to give Tucker time. Maybe overeating was a sign of stress?

 

He let himself fall onto the couch. Caboose leaped from the tower onto his stomach almost taking the wind out of him.

 

“Hi Caboose,” He wheezed.

 

Caboose kneaded his thigh with his sharp claws.

 

“Gahhhh.”

 

-

 

He hated busing as much as cars hated him.

 

There was a social dance that went with it that he didn’t like. He found that usually if the bus was filling up the seat beside him would be one of the last taken up. The facial scars. A couple from debris exploding around him and one from a knife wound—that one was before the army though. It was a bit more faded, more precise.

 

The feeling… it wasn’t the feeling of being picked last for a sports team. It was the certainty he was unsettling to others. Eyes would slide quickly away from him. Calculations made about if it was worth the seat. If it was worth the trouble. The trouble being him.

 

Even though he just wanted to get from point A to point B.

 

His eldest sister had suggested makeup having a few scars to hide herself. That was… a long time ago. Over a video chat after he had healed up. She had sent him pictures of his nephews and their cats. He put the cat pictures on his footlocker. He hadn’t taken the suggestion.

 

It hadn’t been a problem in the army. Everyone in Freelancer had scars.

 

He remembered Niner rolling her eyes at York, locksmith and professional flirt.

 

_“Shoo pretty boy, we all know you’re all talk.”_

The memory engrossed him. He stared out the window a slight smile on his face as he remembered the little look that passed between Carolina and York. Niner’s dramatic shake of the head. Everyone laughing, even Maine--

 

“Listen sir, I can’t understand what you’re saying. You need to pay fare or get off.”

 

A growling sound—Maine’s laugh didn’t sound like that—

 

Oh.

 

He looked up. Maine was at the front gesturing in frustration to the bus driver, who looked like he was getting intimidated by the large man.

 

Maine stopped when he noticed he had caught Wash’s eye. He jerked his head and gestured for Wash to come over.

 

The question was… was he having a flashback or was it Maine on a city bus badgering a bus driver.

 

“Listen I’ll call the cops if you don’t get off this bus,” The bus driver said daringly.

 

Wash got up. He felt like he was underwater and the short walk to the front felt too long.

 

Maine made a noise. Wash knew it was his name.

 

“Hey big guy,” He said faintly.

 

_“Who was hurt?” He strapped in tightly, Niner had sharply turned._

**_“Negative 479er return to rendezvous with cargo. Another group will pick them up.”_ **

****

**“** _Pffsh, shherk, Oh no, you’re breaking up,” Niner deadpanned as she shut off the radio. “He won’t have time to wait.”_

_“Who?” Wash asked. He gripped the med kit tightly, ready to spring out of his seat as soon as they were within range._

_“Maine. Shot in the throat—”_

He wasn’t on the bus anymore. They were on the sidewalk. Maine was staring down at him. Everything snapped into focus.

 

 **“You’re not 100,”** Maine signed slowly.

 

“I’m fine,” Wash said quickly.

 

Maine was taught sign after the accident, but he was clumsy at it. He had never been a talker. He had always been able to express himself with grunts and facial expressions. It was part of the reason why he was such a monster to teach. He had his own way of doing things. He would practice with Wash every night, whether Wash wanted to or not.

 

Wash’s middle sister had suffered hearing loss from a blow to the head when they were kids so he had learned at a young age for her. He was the only active in the unit that knew it fluently. Their sessions though had quickly morphed into Wash learning how to communicate with Maine rather than Maine learning how to communicate with sign. In the end Maine’s language was a mixture of growls, throaty gurgles that only a man shot through the throat could make, facial expressions, big gestures, and a smattering of ASL.

 

They should have sent him home after the accident, but they didn’t. Maine hadn’t wanted to go home anyway.

 

Wash felt bitterness curl in his stomach.

 

_“I suppose as long as we pair him with Washington from now on there should be no trouble. He’ll be able to convey any information to him,” The councillor said slowly. Wash was in the opposite hallway and stopped, more to avoid the councillor than to eavesdrop. He hated their ‘little chats.’_

_“Agent Maine doesn’t need to communicate in a battle situation. He is there to follow orders and curve stomp the goddamn enemy,” The Director growled._

A clap broke up his thoughts.

 

 **“Yeah. Fine.”** Maine knew how to convey irony beautifully with a twitch of his lips and the raise of his eyebrows.  He jerked his thumb. Wash nodded in reply and followed.

 

**“Beer.”**

* * *

**Bonus Cat POV  
**

* * *

"OH! THIS WINDOW IS OPEN!" Caboose hopped from the sill to the ground. "THANK YOU VERY MUCH CHURCH!"

  
“HA! Swish, swish, Stab! Fucking got you thief—oh fuck,” Tucker sprinted away realizing he hadn’t hit his intended target. The human needed to learn how to announce himself better, and also to deal with the fucker that kept breaking in.  


"You really need to do something about this, Wash!" He shouted behind him before scooting under the bed.


End file.
